


Mark My Skin

by SushiOwl



Series: Pigments and Pentacles [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new wolf at the shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't proofread this at all! xD

It was a quiet day, which was common for a Wednesday. Peter was at the counter with Stiles in his lap, his fingers laced at Stiles’s hip. Stiles was running those long fingers through Peter’s hair, and Peter would have been purring if he were able. His eyes had long since fluttered shut.

"You're like a puppy getting pets," Stiles said, amused, as he dragged his nails along Peter’s scalp. "Are you going to want a tummy rub next?"

Peter huffed out a laugh. "No, but you can certainly rub something lower if you get the urge." He opened his eyes in slits just to see Stiles shake his head and roll his eyes.

Peter was about to bury his face into Stiles’s neck and suck a mark there, but before he could, the door to the shop opened. He looked over, ready to greet the possible client, but then the scent hit him and immediately he bared his elongated teeth, his red shone red and he was growling.

"Whoa, what the fuck?" Stiles asked immediately, flailing a bit as he was pushed from Peter’s lap and arranged behind him as Peter stood between him and the intruder.

"She's a werewolf," Peter spat in a barely human voice.

The woman at the door was gazing back with golden shining eyes. She looked barely older than Stiles, looked Latina, and was holding a folder to her chest as she tried to appear small.

"Calm your shit, Peter. It's possible she's not here to attack you," Stiles said, trying to get around Peter.

"I'm not," the other werewolf said in a small voice. "I didn't even know this shop was owned by another wolf, especially an alpha." Her heartbeat was accelerated, probably out of fear, but it didn’t jump when she spoke.

Peter pulled his wolf back, features smoothing out, though he was still suspicious. "Why are you here then?"

"I wanted to know if you're hiring," she said, and Peter blinked at her in surprise. "I've been tattooing since I was eighteen. That was when I completed my apprenticeship. I have my own machines." She tapped the folder with her fingers. "I have my portfolio." 

Peter hesitated a minute. He'd thought about putting an ad out for another artist, but he'd never gotten around to it. Having an employee that was also a wolf made things easier around the full moon time. He held out his hand. "Let me see," he said, and she stepped forward to hand him the folder.

She was good, he found as he went through the portfolio. There were drawings and pictures of tattoos she'd done. Stiles was standing next to him, peering over his shoulder.

"What's your name?" Peter asked as he turned a page.

"Carina," she replied, watching him.

"I'm Peter, and this is Stiles,” he said, and Stiles waved a bit. “I do like your work," he told her, looking up as she smiled. "Where were you working before and why did you stop?"

"Fine Lines," Carina replied. "You know, over on Brackley Road?" When Peter nodded, she went on. "It's where I had my apprenticeship, but when the old owner retired, the place changed. The standards slipped. The others got lazy. I didn't want to be associated with them anymore, so I quit."

"I can understand that," Peter said, continuing to flip through the folder.

"Oh, I really like that," Stiles said, pointing to a picture of a cartoony group of tigers.

“It is indeed nice,” Peter agreed. “I’m not very good at the new school part of tattooing. It would be nice to have someone around to pick up the slack.” He closed the folder and pushed it back toward her. “I’m willing to take you on on a trial basis and see how we work together.” 

“Awesome,” Carina said with a sweet grin, holding the folder to her chest. 

“Now there will be two people without tattoos inking people,” Stiles said, smiling like it was the most hilarious thing in the world. 

Peter rolled his eyes.

“I have tattoos,” Carina interjected, setting the folder down and pulling up her sleeve to a traditional heart with roses and a pair of swallows. “I have a full leg piece too.”

“I can only imagine how painful that would have been to make them stay,” Peter commented.

“Oh, I didn’t use fire afterward,” Carina replied, dropping her sleeve. Peter lifted his brows in question, and she smiled. “It took me a while to figure it out, but I found the right mixture of ink and wolfsbane to make the color and black stay.”

“Did you?” Peter asked, because this was something he was definitely interested in.

“It was a trial and error process,” Carina admitted, before she showed them her forearm. There were black dots all over it, varying in degree of darkness. “There are dozens more than my body absorbed.”

“Amazing,” Peter said. “I will definitely have to keep you around if you’re bringing things like this to the table.”

As Carina smiled all the wider, Stiles turned wide eyes on Peter. “Does that mean you’re going to get inked?” he asked. 

“Perhaps,” Peter replied with a snort.

“I’ll ink you if you ink me,” Carina said.

“Deal,” Peter answered with a wink.

* * *

The next day, Peter was sketching at one of the desks when Stiles came in. "What are you drawing?" he asked as Peter closed his sketchbook. 

"Nothing," Peter told him, putting his hand on the book when Stiles went to open in. "You're so nosy."

"You knew that already," Stiles told him, and that was certainly true. "I have something for you." He dug around in his front pocket, pulling out a black thread with a pendant attached. "Here." He dropped it into Peter’s hand.

"A pentacle?" Peter asked, running his thumb over it. It was simple, just a bronze coin with an imprint.

"It has a protection spell on it," Stiles explained.

"What for?" Peter asked with a lifted brow.

"In case someone gets any funny ideas about your alpha power," Stiles replied haughtily, like it should have been obvious.

Peter snorted. "Carina seems harmless."

"Not Carina. She's cool." Stiles picked up the necklace and put it on Peter, laying the pentacle against his skin under his shirt. "I've been looking for the right pentacle since that witch attacked us."

Peter took hold of Stiles’s hand, lifting it up to kiss his knuckles. "Do you have one for yourself?"

Stiles nodded, pulling his own pentacle out from inside his shirt. "I've been studying offensive spells too."

"Good," Peter said, not letting himself think about what could have happened.

Stiles seemed to notice that a subject change was needed. He looked back to the sketchbook and reached out to open it. "Now what were you drawing?"

Grabbing the sketchbook, Peter held it against his chest. "Keep your paws to yourself, thank you."

"Shooow meee," Stiles whined, grabbing at the book.

"Nooo," Peter replied, rolling away on his stool. Stiles chased him, laughing, but Peter didn't reveal the drawing.

* * *

"So what’s the meaning behind it?" Carina asked when Peter showed her the finished drawing. "Does it have anything to do with Stiles?" She knew. It was obvious in her smile.

"It has everything to do with Stiles," Peter told her.

The design was simplistic, a portrait of a fox and in orange, white and red, and a similar wolf in black and blue, facing each other with their noses just barely touching. Around them was a plain circle. It wasn't going to win any prizes for intricate detail like some of his pieces, but it was exactly what he wanted.

Peter had asked Carina to come in early so she could ink him before the shop opened. He promised her lunch and compensation. She denied the money but ate her weight in fajitas.

Stiles arrived at 3:45pm, using his own key to open the door when he found it locked. He gasped when he saw Peter in the tattoo chair with Carina focusing intently on his shoulder. "You're getting tattooed!" Stiles squawked, dropping his bag on the counter and hurrying over to get a look.

When he saw what it was Peter was getting permanently etched into his shoulder, he stopped, brows coming together and his chin wobbling. "Peter," he said, rubbing his nose as he sniffed.

"C'mere," Peter said, grabbing his hand and pulling him close. "I meant it. I did." He didn’t have to say what, because Stiles nodded his head in understanding. 

"You're the best," Stiles said, leaning over the side of the chair to kiss him, giggling against his mouth. "My Squishywolf."

"Dios mío, is it possible for a werewolf to get diabetes from something so sweet?" Carina asked, not looking up from her work. She was grinning though.

"That means 'my god,' right?" Stiles asked as he watched Carina finishing up.

"More or less," she replied, wiping ink and blood away before dipping her needles in black.

"I took Spanish in high school, and I only remember how to say 'cómo se dice Spanish in español?'" He smiled as Peter chuckled and Carina gave him a flat look. "That's the face my teacher always made at me."

Carina shook her head, looking back at her work, a smile quirking her lips. Peter watched her as she finished up.

"Does it hurt?" Stiles asked pressing his cheek into Peter’s shoulder.

"Yes, my abilities don't stop pain," Peter replied, nuzzling Stiles as best he could without moving his arm. It felt exactly like what it was: needles stabbing him repeatedly.

"How long will it take to heal?"

"Mine took about a week," Carina answered, rolling back a little to get a good look at the tattoo. "I imagine it will be less for an alpha."

"We will have to wait and see," Peter said as Carina washed off his tattoo with green soap.

* * *

"Will you leave it alone?" Peter asked for the fifth time that day.

Stiles kept sneaking up on him and lifting his sleeve to look at his tattoo. It didn’t hurt, and it didn’t smear the thin layer of Aquaphor there, but it was annoying.

"I'm just looking," Stiles said, putting his sleeve back and dancing away.

Ten minutes later, Stiles was back, and Peter threatened to chew off his face. His client and Carina both laughed as Stiles pouted.

When the tattoo was healed three days later, it looked fantastic. Peter was already plotting for more.

* * *

Peter went to the parlor early again, because Carina had a Victor Hugo quote she wanted in flowy script on her foot. As he was working, she cleared her throat.

"You never asked if I have a pack," she said.

Peter glanced up at her. "You never smell like other wolves, so I assumed not."

Carina snorted, wiggling her toes where her foot was braced on the chair. "I don't. Never have. I'm a born wolf, but I'm adopted. My parents did their best, but my childhood wasn't easy. Everything I know about being a wolf comes from the Internet."

"Ah," Peter said, because he figured that, pretty much. 

"You never smell like other wolves either," Carina said gently.

"I don't have a pack, but I have Stiles," he told her, and she smiled, nodding. "Someday I may seek out some betas, but right now I'm pleased with what I have." He dipped his needle in black again. "Who knows, you and I may be pack someday."

"Maybe," Carina agreed, and it was nice that she didn't shut him down immediately.

* * *

"Stiles," Peter growled.

"Hm?" Stiles replied with a cheeky little smile on his face.

" _Move,_ " Peter demanded, tugging at the ropes that kept his hands tied to the headrest. He could have broken free, but he rather liked his bed.

"Like this?" Stiles asked, rocking his hips just a little.

Peter bared his teeth.

After their monthly karaoke night, this one Carina attended as well, Stiles had been pleasantly buzzed and suggested tying Peter up and riding his cock. Carina had been hardly out of earshot, but she knew them well enough by now not to listen.

They had already had the rope, since Stiles liked to be trussed up and Peter loved the rope burn marks that were left on that pale skin. But Stiles wasn't delivering on the promise of riding. He was just sitting there and rocking a little while squeezing his muscles around Peter’s dick. It felt nice, but it wasn't enough.

Peter tried canting his hips up, but Stiles just lifted up a bit on his knees. He looked good, damn him, sitting there with a pentacle hanging from his throat and his dick raised between his creamy thighs, with another dick buried inside his heat. Peter let out a frustrated sound through his teeth.

"Calm down, wolfy," Stiles said, smiling. "I don't ever get to have you at my mercy. Let me enjoy this."

"You don't enjoy it normally?" Peter had to ask.

Stiles let out a high laugh, lifting up so only the tip of Peter’s cock was inside him. "I do," he said, before he dropped back down, both of them letting out a grunt on impact. He finally started to move, bracing his hands on Peter’s chest. His thumb brushed against his pentacle.

"You should get a chest piece done," Stiles said as he thumbed Peter’s nipples. "Something I can trace with my fingers."

Peter flexed his fingers, wishing he could grab Stiles’s hips and move his faster. "I plan on it. You should get a sleeve piece. You'd look fantastic." He let out a grunt of pleasure as Stiles dropped hard.

"Yeah?" Stiles asked, grinning like a shit even with a dick plunged deep inside him. "You'll do me, right?"

Peter growled again, this time from pleasure. "I'll always do you."

By the time he came, Peter was half mad, cursing and praising Stiles in the same breath. But he wouldn't give up the sight of Stiles bouncing in his lap for anything.

Stiles was lying against Peter’s front after releasing his hands, Peter’s softening cock still buried inside him. He was rubbing his thumb along Peter’s collarbone. "I don't ever want this to end," he said softly.

"It doesn't have to," Peter told him, his brow furrowing. He looked down where Stiles’s hand had stopped moving.

“I want to move back to Beacon Hills when I get my degree,” Stiles told him, lifting his head.

Peter had figured as much. He nodded. “Then I’ll move my shop to Beacon Hills, or near it. That’s not a problem.”

“What about Carina?” Stiles asked, biting his bottom lip in a way that kept his smile from spreading too wide.

“It’s over two years from now,” Peter said, brushing his fingers through Stiles’s short hair. “If she’s still around then, she’ll be pack and we won’t be able to get rid of her.”

“Two packs in Beacon Hills, though?” Stiles said, shifting and squeezing his muscles around Peter’s soft cock.

Peter took a second to savor the feeling, licking his lips as blood started to go south. “Stranger things have happened, such as a pack with two alphas.” Stiles stuck out his tongue, and Peter nipped at it, smiling when Stiles hid his face in his chest. “We have plenty of time to figure it all out,” he said, before he rolled them over and pressed inside of Stiles, deep. “I have faith.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like this one. We're so close to the end of the series. I'mma miss it.
> 
> However, if you have any simple ideas for this universe, I'm all ears. I don't want it to end anymore than you do.
> 
> Next update by **5/10/15**


End file.
